Mijikai Monogatari
by Queen000
Summary: A bunch of side stories that coincide with the game universe. Based off my novelizations 'Rise of the Tyrant' and 'Requiem of Chaos'.
1. The Fisherman

_So it occured to me the more I wrote for the novel that there were going to be some things that I couldn't add to the story specifically because it would either stretch out the length of the arc, or there was no way I could fit it in. Considering that there was just so much I wanted to add to my telling, this notion bummed me out, but I persevered and decided that whatever didn't make the story would be added to a side story slot, updating after that particular arc was finished, so as not to disrupt the story. That means that while this particular story may not be updated very often, there might be more than just one update at a time, so it's a neat little trade back. Hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it._

_Also as another note, these chapters will most likely not be in chronological order. I will make a note at the beginning of each chapter stating the time it takes place. Sorry if it gets messy or confusing. Sorry for the late posting of this; it was originally supposed to be posted on the same week I updated Requiem of Chaos, but things fell flat on its face._

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, it's characters or the plot. That honour belongs to Square-Enix (formerly Squaresoft). _

* * *

Fisherman's Horizon had thirteen hours of daylight. It was more or less the same as the small continent of Balamb.

This was also true when it came to their climates. One similarity, from what he'd learned, was that the two areas shared a lack of snow during winter months. In Balamb, it simply rained, the frigid element turning into water once it reached a certain altitude within the region, making the months of November to February very damp and bogged down with moisture that attracted lots of insects, like mosquitoes. The temperature itself never dipped down below 10 degrees Celsius, and always required the use of spring clothes for optimum comfort.

The months of March through June and September through November were also very mild, not too hot or too cold, and their summers could hardly even be called that. The temperatures between June and September climbed to a high of mid to late twenties on average, though it wasn't unheard of for them to climb even further into the thirties. Of course with the humidity there awarded some discomfort, but during those times, many of the youths living in town or attending the Garden would find themselves along the beaches that surrounded the continent.

Unfortunately, that was one thing Fisherman's Horizon failed to have in common with Balamb.

Because the small community was located in the middle of a bridge, they had no real access to the sea water beneath them. There were no beaches in the surrounding area, no immediate means of cooling off during the hottest and most humid hours of the day. Furthermore, their summers were much balmier than Balamb's. Their record high was about mid forties. Today was no exception. According to temperatures that were being recorded in town, the high for the day was supposed to be 42 degrees Celsius and he could feel it the moment he'd stepped aboard the suspension bridge, through the cotton clothes he had put on to combat the heat.

It was a failing battle and he knew it.

Still, he resisted the urge to return to the air-conditioned confines of the Garden. He couldn't say there wasn't anything for him to do, mostly overseeing the repairs, but the Lieutenant Commander had insisted he take a break, if only for a couple of hours, as he'd been working non-stop for the last few days.

He frowned to himself, recalling the very reason he was in the position he was in right now. It had only been a few days since the announcement had been made over the speaker system, and already he was regretting letting Cid twist his arm the way he had. Never before had he realised just how much work the administrative staff and the leaders of the Garden had set in front of them, mostly consisting of a few pages of paper that needed documenting or signatures. He hadn't thought he'd have any time to work on his signature (even if he'd wanted to) when he'd first become a SeeD member, but now it looked like his wrist was in for a workout.

He forced those thoughts out of his mind though. The office and all the responsibilities that the Headmaster was leaving him in charge of was the very last thing he wanted to think about.

Before he had even reached the lift that would take him into the town proper, however, he caught sight of a ladder that led down when he reached the catwalk near a pillar of some sort. It wasn't so much the sight of the ladder that had drawn his attention as it was the gate of a fence wrapped around it, swinging open and slapping against the mesh wire as the wind swung it forward.

He knew it wasn't any of his business, knew that he should simply inform the people who ran the city of the trespass and walk away, but curiosity was biting at him and he couldn't help himself as he passed through the opened gate and began to descend the ladder into unknown territory.

The ladder led a fair way beneath the catwalk as the teenager noticed during his descent. To his left there was a small platform surrounded by railings that didn't lead to anywhere. The base of the ladder touched a metal plank and the plank stretched for a while to his right. When he'd reached the bottom, he crept along the plank, keeping his eyes open for something that looked out of the ordinary.

Then again, he'd never exactly been down there before, so it was very unlikely he would be able to tell if something was out of place or not.

Regardless of this fact, he pressed on, keeping his footfalls light as he followed the path, for what he wasn't exactly sure. But at the end of the path he spotted another ladder. This one was smaller and only consisted of about five bars. Within a few steps, he was already on the upper landing, but the sight at the very end took him unawares.

When he'd first noticed the fence and the door swinging open, he had immediately assumed that it was some kid who thought he'd get a rush being somewhere he shouldn't. But the culprit wasn't a youth. He was much older. His skin was an olive complexion, waxy looking from constant exposure in the sun. He wore a green coloured hat as the sole protection from the ultra violet rays above, and he was wearing a blue shirt and a pair of green suspenders that looked almost uncomfortable in the heat. Clenched tightly in his hands was a fishing rod, the line cast below the surface of the water that was a few meters beneath him. The man's head was dipped forward. It was almost as though he'd fallen asleep.

Unsure of what he should do now, Squall looked around. He didn't know why he suddenly felt awkward, because it was only the pair of them on the platform surrounded by railings. He realised that the old man was sitting on something akin to the end of the crane, with his feet perched along the top end of the object, as though for support.

Knowing that he should either make his presence known or leave him be, the SeeD went to make a move. But then the man suddenly spoke, causing the youth to nearly jump out of his skin in reflex by the sudden disruption. "Will you keep it down?"

He spoke in a harsh whisper, but it travelled well enough that the SeeD was able to catch every word of it. "You'll scare away the game."

Squall arched an eyebrow. He hadn't been doing anything to make a sound and wondered what the old man's problem was. But then the old man sighed and began to set his fishing rod to the side as he said, "Never mind. Game's not cooperating today anyhow."

Once the rod had been set aside in a secured kind of way, he forced himself to stand. He stood straight back, unlike the Mayor who was always hunched over somewhat, before turning around to face the youth. The man had some lines along his face that told he was older, but not nearly as much as Squall would have expected. He wondered if it had anything to do with his lifestyle, but didn't ask about it.

For his part, the old man looked somewhat surprised to see him standing there. Squall assumed he'd received visits from some of the other civilians, and hadn't expected recognition or anything along those lines. "Yer not from around here." It wasn't a question.

Squall shook his head in reply and the man regarded him curiously. "Then what're you doin' down here?"

"The gate was open," Squall responded lamely and cursed himself for it.

The old man stared at him, seemingly sizing him up before he barked out a laugh. "Well that was foolish of me. I guess even old dodgers like me forget things every now and again, eh?"

The youth blinked at the outburst. He didn't know what he'd been expecting but it certainly hadn't been anything like that. The man seemed to catch the look however. "Relax, kid. I come down here all the time. My house is around the bend. It's real easy for me to get here without anyone realising it."

"You avoid the others?" Squall asked, suddenly curious.

The old man waved him off. "Nah, not _all_ the time. And it ain't like it happens on purpose neither. It's just good to get away from it all. Some peace and quiet does people some good, otherwise you start to feel smothered."

Squall didn't know why the old man was getting all defensive. It wasn't like he was judging his actions or anything. He knew exactly what the old man was talking about though. Sometimes, you really did just needed to get away. Everyone had a place like that. His was the training centre, but he wasn't about to go into detail.

"Yer from that Garden, aincha?" The man suddenly said, as though they hadn't gotten off track. "The one that crashed inta us?"

Squall frowned. It wasn't exactly like it had been a secret that their Garden had lost control, but the situation still didn't sit well with him, considering they had been responsible for it. He nodded in response.

"You oughta be more careful," the fisherman continued before pointing up above them. "The damage was downright horrifying ta look at. Bolts and planks all ripped off their supports. Fortunately, our skill-hands know a bolt from their boots and they did one hellova job fixing it up real quick. Why, I was over there fishin' that very mornin'. Damned ship nearly collided right inter me. Terrible if ya ask me."

The youth frowned as he took in the sight he was being shown. He could just imagine the damages their Garden had caused and it made his stomach tighten at the reminder. It was a miracle no one had gotten hurt. He hadn't even realised there had been someone down there at the time. "I'm sorry," he said, and was surprised at how easily the words had come to him. "It was our fault, and I won't offer any excuses. We're just lucky that no one got hurt."

"Nah, don't worry about it, boy," the man said and Squall was surprised at how easily he shook it off. "Water under the bridge, pardon the pun. Things happen."

The man coughed into his hand suddenly and, between the coughing, Squall was able to make out what the man was trying to hide behind his fist. "Damn near killed me," he barked out in a whisper.

Squall blinked in surprise, wondering if maybe he'd somehow managed to run into a lunatic, but the man whirled back around and flashed him a toothy grin. "Just kiddin'."

When the youth continued to stare, the grin diminished somewhat before the old man shook his head. "Relax and take that stick outta there once in a while. Can't be comfortable sittin' down. I'm just yankin' yer chain, boy. There's no need ta take _everything_ so seriously."

Now he was convinced the older man needed help, the professional psychiatric kind that he wasn't trained to give. Apparently, he must have sensed the change of atmosphere, because the fisherman rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. It was at that point, Squall figured it would probably be a good idea to leave this old man alone.

"Okay…" Squall said awkwardly, in response to the older man's last words. "I'm going to go now."

"Just one minute," the fisherman said even as Squall was turning around. "I didn't say ya had ta _leave_. Why not spend some time with the old man?"

"I'm kind of busy."

"Busy enough that ya had time ta follow an old man down here?" The fisherman gestured widely.

Squall winced. He had a valid point. When the man gestured for him to do so, Squall stepped forward away from the ladder leading back the way he'd come and closer to the fisherman, despite his misgivings. The fisherman plopped back down onto his spot while the SeeD opted to stand with his arms crossed in front of him.

"Ya ever gone fishin' before?" The fisherman asked suddenly as he reeled in his fishing line.

Squall shook his head in response before remembering that the man was facing away from him now and couldn't see him. "Not really."

It was the truth. When he was younger, the Garden had taken them into town, where they'd been taught a little about the fishing community. A lot of the other cadets had wanted to try to fish by the docks and had done so under the instructor's watchful eyes. He'd opted out and had silently watched instead, never having really taken an interest in the activity.

"That Garden's from Balamb, ain't it?" the fisherman asked.

"That's right."

"And Balamb's a fisherman's town. You're tellin' me you ain't so much as taken up a rod?"

Squall shrugged in response. "Wasn't all that interested."

"My god, boy. Don't look down yer nose at somethin' if ya ain't so much as tried it. C'mere."

The fisherman reached behind him and, with a grip Squall hadn't expected him to have, dragged the SeeD even closer, until he was forced to lean beside the elder man. Before he knew it, he was seated next to the fisherman, his legs dangling over the edge of the perch and the fisherman was positioning the youth's hands around the base of the object. When Squall's hands were holding the rod the right way, the fisherman reached down and pulled into view a tin bucket. Reaching into it, he pulled out a wriggling worm.

Squall watched as the fisherman attached the worm to the base of a ball with a hook on it as the elder man explained to him how to go about it, all the while wondering why he was even putting up with this. Maybe it was a mild curiosity, or perhaps this old man was so unpredictable he didn't know what he would do next to catch him off guard. Stranger still, he sort of found himself looking forward to finding out.

"When you feel a bite, the fishing line'll tug," the fisherman was explaining. "That's when you'll reel the sucker in using this," he indicated a small handle secured to a bit of metal that had fishing wire wrapped around it. "Ya gotta be quick though, otherwise ya may find yerself reeling up the hook with nothin' attached to it. First thing's first though. You gotta cast the line."

The older man pushed himself back onto his feet, gesturing for the SeeD to do the same, which he did. "Just do what I do," he said rather than explain the next step of the unexpected lesson. He put his hands together and stretched his arms as though he were holding onto a fishing line himself before bringing it along behind him. The SeeD followed the movement until the line of pull matched but just as quickly the fisherman thrust his arms forward sharply. Squall did so as well, and the line flew into the water, the SeeD barely managed to keep his hold on the line. "Now what?" Squall asked after a moment where nothing happened.

"Now," said the fisherman as he sat back down, "we wait."

And that was exactly what the pair did. They waited for something to grab a hold of the bait. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the fisherman's earlier statement had been true, the fish really weren't cooperating today. Squall half wondered if it was due to the Garden's presence, but shook away the thought as quickly as it had surfaced. SeeD had been there for the last few days, the fish would have gotten used to it by now. Surely they wouldn't be so skittish that a large structure that remained stationary would scare them away.

Squall forced himself to stop mid-thought. Now he was contemplating the thinking patterns of fish. That was a new kind of low that he didn't even want to consider.

Having sat down a short while after the fisherman, the youth kept a grip on the rod as it stemmed out in front of him. Beside him, the elder man simply sat staring straight ahead, though Squall guessed he was also keeping an eye out in case he caught something. Squall huffed a sigh, wondering not for the first time what exactly attracted people to this activity when all it consisted of most of the time was waiting.

Beside him, the old man chuckled, drawing the SeeD's attention towards him. "What's so funny?" He asked, keeping his voice low. The last thing he needed to hear was a lecture about scaring away the fish.

He'd half expected the man to shush him or to shake his head and wave off the question. The last thing he'd expected was an answer, especially the kind of which he received. "You."

Squall blinked in confusion but waited for the elder man to give him an explanation. He wasn't kept waiting long though. "You don't let anyone in, do ya?"

The SeeD continued to stare, wondering how he'd managed to come to that conclusion and why he even thought it was any of his business to begin with. The fisherman seemed to read through the look because he shook his head. "It's in yer mannerisms, boy. The way ya walk, how ya talk, hell, even the way ya _sit's_ a dead giveaway."

Almost subconsciously, Squall straightened his back, causing him to sit up a little straighter, his shoulders no longer hunched up to his mid neck. He hadn't intended for it to happen based on the elder man's words, but that was what it looked like. It was apparently so, since the fisherman started laughing again. "Relax, boy. I ain't judging ya. I was the same way when I was yer age. Still am, kinda, though everyone around these parts seems to know exactly who I am without my botherin' ta try. If yer anything like I was, then ya keep others out 'cuz ya got too much pride in ya ta let 'em in."

Squall frowned thoughtfully and realized that he was probably right. He chose to keep everyone else out of his business because it was his to deal with. It was mostly because he knew he could take care of himself without anyone else's interference. He knew it was an arrogant thought, and he supposed that arrogance was a big part of pride, so he couldn't be too far off the mark with his comment. Wordlessly, Squall nodded lightly, enough to show the man he'd made his point but not too much to convey that he was interested in continuing this conversation.

"Got nuthin' to say?" The fisherman asked coyly. "Or are ya waiting fer me to drop the subject?"

Squall frowned, not liking that he was so readable to this man at all.

"Ya know what?" He said before Squall had the chance to make a remark. "I think I like ya."

Squall arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate, which of course he didn't. Instead, the fisherman mercifully changed the subject. "So I take it ya met Dobe."

Slowly, Squall nodded. He still wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the Mayor. It was commendable how far the town leader was willing to go to maintain his order of pacifism, but at the same time he did so recklessly, condemning anyone who didn't share the same values and almost getting himself killed trying to convert others. He had said what he had to be polite, despite the majority of it having been the truth, and he seriously doubted that those words would have had any impact on the stubborn man.

"I take it from the look on yer face ya heard the song and dance?" The fisherman supplied.

Squall started at the comment. Had his facial expression really given away his thoughts? He frowned slightly at the thought of being so readable. The fisherman for his part fell silent for a moment, his features thoughtful as he seemed to mull something over. Assuming that the conversation was over, Squall returned his attention to the task at hand, only he needn't have bother since nothing had happened since the last time he'd focussed on the rod in front of him.

A few minutes went by before he registered movement from beside him. He looked up instinctively to see the fisherman rising to his feet. "I'll be right back," the man assured him before he made for the ladder. "Keep doin' what yer doin' 'til I get back."

And he left Squall on that perch with only the expanse of ocean below him for company.

He didn't know how long he sat there, or even why he did, but he looked up when the elder man returned, carrying some kind of bag with him that he dumped onto the ground a few feet away from him. "Leave the rod in the holder and c'mere a sec, will ya?"

Unsure of what he was planning, Squall set aside the rod and rose to his feet, inching closer to the fisherman who was searching the bag's contents for something. He found it seconds later and withdrew a small circular object Squall thought was a DVD. When the elder man held it up, Squall realized that it really wasn't. It looked like an electronic base of some sort. Whatever its function was was lost on the SeeD and he couldn't help but feel that Zell would have at least had an idea of what it did. He was gestured to take a seat, but the SeeD simply crouched instead, waiting for the man to get on with whatever it was he was doing.

The fisherman fiddled with the object before setting it onto the ground. "Dobe probably told ya we originally came here from Esthar, right?" Squall nodded in response to the question. "Well, this here thing has somethin' recorded that I wanna show ya. Ya might wanna back up a step," he suggested before doing just that.

The SeeD mirrored the action and suddenly the little object started glowing. Then, just above the machine appeared some kind of projection that seemed to hover in midair. The image he was awarded was of a man wearing strange and foreign looking white robes. The figure had a long green hat that seemed to be about the length of his head that matched the long line running down the front of his attire, and in the projection his skin was pale. Squall figured it was a side effect of the machine.

The features weren't very clear in the projection but looking into it, Squall realized that he recognized the figure somewhat. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he definitely knew he'd met this person before. He just couldn't place when and where.

"Sorry 'bout the picture," the fisherman said as he watched the projection. "This thing's about twenty years old now, so it ain't the same kinda clarity it once was."

"Is this you in the past?" Squall asked uncertainly.

The fisherman fixed him with a surprised look. "What? Are you kidding me? Does that guy look _anything_ like me?"

Squall scowled as he tried to make out the features of the figure, but found himself hard pressed to do so. The fisherman seemed to realize this because he settled back down again. "Sorry, 'course ya can't tell who it is. He looks familiar though, don't he?"

The SeeD offered a nod in return but didn't add anything to it. The fisherman apparently thought it would be appropriate to fill in the blanks. "That there is ol' Dobey, back in his prime."

Squall took in the projections image once again, surprised at the declaration. The Dobe of the past and the one he'd met a few days ago looked nothing alike, at least from what he could tell. This man looked more professional, more straight backed, definitely younger than he was now. The Mayor he'd met had seemed more relaxed, but he supposed he was still as stern as he appeared in the projection.

"Even back then, he was concerned with pacifism," the fisherman remarked fondly, as though he were recalling something from the past. "He sure was a rebel though. He put everything on the line tryin' ta change Esthar back then, himself included."

He changed his target of view from the image in front of him to the youth. "I'm guessin' ya learned all about Esthar from the Garden, right? It's the wonderland down the train tracks. Only real way to reach the continent now though is to hike across them, though there's no guarantee ya'd even _find_ the actual country if ya did. Not exactly a fine day at the park, mind ya. Esthar was beautiful, but its principles sure as hell weren't. All anyone could talk about at the time was war, and Dobey tried his damnedest ta make 'em all see reason. Unfortunately, nothin' worked.

"Ya mighta heard this already, but the settlers' of this here city were originally technicians from Esthar," the fisherman continued. "Hell, they used ta call me the Engineer back then. Some still do, but that ain't the point. We was all happy back then, but then the war started and everything changed on us. No one was happy 'bout the rule. Most of us were scared ta put a toe outta line for the sake of peace, but Dobey wasn' about ta lay down and just accept things fer what they were. No one listened to him and in the end, we all decided ta leave Esthar behind and build our dreamland somewhere else. Dobey was against it at first. Said with some hard work, we could change their minds and set the record straight. He debated and debated until he was blue in the face, and ironically enough he's here now, with us."

The fisherman snorted suddenly, as though he'd thought up some kind of joke and it gave Squall some time to mull over what he'd been told. He'd known that Esthar had become heavily involved in military affairs a few years before they declared war on Galbadia, but the history books could only tell you so much and left out the effect it had on the people living in the country.

"And after all these years, ya'd think he'd have mellowed out some, but no... The guy's _still_ obsessed with pacifism," the fisherman continued. "So much so that he's put a ban on armaments in the city and tries ta avoid contact with any and all forms of countries who use 'em. It's pretty much cut us off from the rest of the world, but no one complains. He can come across as bein' pig headed and close minded and it gives off the wrong impression of him. I think he knows it too, but he can't help it. Environment has a lot ta do with a person's mannerisms.

"Esthar's changed though," the fisherman added. "Closed off its borders and gone silent, effectively ended the war and brought the rest of the world peace. And, believe it or not, FH's changed a great deal in that time as well. Our way of livin', the technology we use, and even the faces who live here."

He cracked that toothy smile again. "Betcha it changes yer opinion of this dingy place, don't it?"

Squall didn't say anything. To be honest he hadn't exactly formed an opinion of the city in the first place, so much as he had of the Mayor and its principles. But he understood what the fisherman was getting at. The elder man looked up towards the sky, even if it was obscured by the plating above their heads. "It won't be in any text book ya ever read, but this here place was built on dreams."

"What made you want to build a settlement _here_?" Squall asked, unable to contain the question. The fisherman looked back down at him, bewilderment creasing his features. "You could have gone anywhere else. Balamb or even Galbadia might have welcomed you."

The fisherman shrugged. "Ta be honest, we weren't exactly sure _where_ we were gonna go in the first place when we left. We just wandered across the bridge – by then the trains had gone outta service since Esthar didn't want the Galbadian's reachin' 'em as easily as boarding a train. But then one day, I sat down and started fishin'. Don't know why, but I just did. Actually…" He rubbed the back of his head, looking as though he'd just remembered something. "That was about the time I thought up the name fer this here town."

"You named the town?"

The fisherman nodded. "Ya sound shocked. Orion mighta become our leader, but I was the one who orchestrated us all leavin' after all."

"But why did you name it Fisherman's Horizon?" Squall asked curiously. "What made you come up with the name?"

The fisherman looked surprised for a moment. Apparently he hadn't thought the SeeD would think to ask him something like that. The silence stretched on into a second second before the older man finally rubbed the back of his head, looking really sheepish. "Well… no one complained. Actually, now that I think about it, I was _surprised_ no one said a thing about it. I musta been outta my crank ta have come up with a name like that for a city. Guess it shows how much faith everyone had in me."

He barked out a laugh as Squall stared at him in stunned silence, not sure how seriously he should take the answer. How was it possible to name the town on a whim and _not_ have any objections? "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Why?" The fisherman asked in bemusement. "It's 'cuz I figured ya'd understand it a whole lot better than most people."

Squall stared at him in confusion while the elder man huffed out a sigh. "Ta be honest, I spoke with Dobe a little while after the fighting in the town square. I don't agree with the method, but I have ta say the Mayor was a right ol' idiot ta think he could waltz on down there and talk some sense into those meatheads. He woulda gotten killed too if it weren't for you SeeD people."

The SeeD remained silent as the fisherman continued with his explanation. "I may just look like a regular run-of-the-mill bum, but the folks here seem to value my opinion, so as soon as ol' Dobey gets home, he calls me up to rant about the whole sordid affair. When he calmed down enough, he told me all about this one guy with a scar on his face saying some strange stuff for a soldier."

The fisherman, who had turned to look back out onto the ocean as he spoke, returned his gaze onto the SeeD. "I _knew_ I had ta meet ya then when he wouldn't stop yammerin' on about ya."

"So the gate," Squall asked slowly, "you left that open on purpose?"

The elder man shrugged almost nonchalant, but the look his face betrayed the guilt he felt, and proved the suspicion to be fact. "Woulda sought ya out myself, but how likely is it that I'd find ya among all the other townsfolk, let alone all the youths comin' on outta tha Garden. It'd be like findin' a needle in a haystack, damn near impossible. I left it open today on a whim, figurin' that I had nothin' better to do, 'sides from fishin' of course. And what're the odds that it'd actually work; that the one person who'd get curious enough to investigate an open door's the exact person I wanted ta meet in the first place?"

Squall remained silent, not exactly sure how he should take the strange actions of the strange old man. It felt more than just a little weird that someone would go through all the trouble just to meet and talk to him, just because of something he'd heard. It made him feel more than a little awkward and he wondered, not for the first time, why he was the one being singled out when he was no different from anyone else who came from the Garden.

His train of thought was broken when he heard the fisherman clear his throat. Looking up, he realized that the elder man's attention was fixed not on him, but behind him as he rose onto his feet. "Looks like somethin' finally bit."

Squall turned to look behind him and realized the man was right. The fishing line was slowly moving higher and higher, almost as though something was occasionally pulling on the cord. Reacting quickly, the youth got up onto his feet and grabbed the end of the rod before it could be dragged out of its holder. "Now reel it in like how I told ya," the fisherman encouraged. Judging by the sound of his voice, he was approaching lightly so as not to make any noise.

Clutching onto the handle with his index finger and thumb, Squall did exactly that, spinning the object quickly as he pulled back as hard as he could. There was some resistance as he did this, and he grit his teeth as he continued to reel in whatever it was that he caught. He noticed the sudden adrenaline rush he felt as he continued this action and realized that this was the allure of fishing. Amidst of the silence a catch was almost spontaneous and it caused such a thrill it was almost like waking up from the brink of death. All of his senses felt alive with the rush, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat could be felt from beneath the skin as the line was reeled in and the turning of the mechanism of the crane grew that much harder to turn.

And then just like that the resistance broke off, causing the youth to lose his balance and fall flat on his rear along the dock with a hard thud. He blinked stupidly, wondering if perhaps the line had broken before he took a look. But what he saw caused him to drop the rod and groan loudly. He had caught something. It just wasn't at all what he had been expecting.

The worm that the fisherman had affixed onto the hook at the end of the fishing line was gone. Most likely it had been swallowed up by a fish during the entire exchange, but nevertheless there was still something at the very end of the line, though it gave very little resistance at having been fished out of the water beneath them. It was red in colour and looked to be about the width of a person, with two open pockets that looked to be for holding something securely in place. And despite never having touched one before, Squall knew exactly what it was as his face heated up in embarrassment.

Behind him, he heard the old man's barking laughter and he scowled, wanting to shrink away into nonexistence. Morbid curiosity guided his movements as he turned his head to see the fisherman bent over with his hands on his knees, his shoulders quaking and his head shaking in mirth. He managed to compose himself after about a minute, but there was still the odd waver that could lead into another laughing fit as he spoke. "Well... at least ya caught _something_," he said as he gestured towards the bra.

Squall slapped himself in the forehead. It was just his luck that this would be his first catch.

* * *

_Okay, so obviously this was my interpretation of Squall meeting the fisherman. I know it's not exactly how the game had it, but I'm satisfied with how it turned out._

_First and foremost; I always thought it was odd that Squall would meet with the Master Fisherman with the others in tow, and have them not say anything about it (with the exception of Irvine who, if you talked to him before leaving the room in the inn, commented that the story was nice). As such, this is why Squall and the fisherman have a one-on-one in my version. Also, I decided to explain a little bit about why the Fisherman wanted to speak to Squall and why he stood out to him so much. Fact is, I always noticed some similarities between the fisherman and Squall; they're both secluded people who gained the respect of their peers seemingly without even trying to, and they're rough around the edges at first glance but there is always something more deep down. One of the key differences is the teasing, though Squall (in the game) has been given the opportunity to crack a joke or two, pending the player's decision. _

_Another decision I made was that instead of lugging Squall all over town and proving how everyone got so excited whenever they saw the fisherman, they stayed down on the dock and the whole story was focused on that spot. I did so because it seemed like too much work to walk all over the place just to gage the reaction of other people, and it's not even necessary anyway, since there are multiple people who point him out in the novel, so I decided to do it this way. Also having Squall fish for the first time was just another thing for them to do to occupy the pockets of dead space (which I knew there was going to be plenty of) but it also threw in a famous old saying 'don't knock it till you try it'. That could be in reference to a lot of the things Squall didn't do as he was growing up, simply because he was pining away at instances that weren't really in his control to begin with. But the story will go into even more detail about that later on, so I'm not going to spoil it by putting it here._

_The bra thing was just a humorous attempt to end the chapter on my part. Originally it was going to be a boot (I never intended for Squall to catch a fish) but my editor tore me a knew one. It's been done so many times it would have just been an eye-roll moment, so I went with the bra. Squall's so funny when he gets embarrassed._

_Also, for those who care, the title '_Mijikai monogatari' _is japanese. '_Mijakai'_ means '_short'_ and _'Monogatari'_ means '_tale'_. Yeah, I know; I'm lazy, but I couldn't think of anything that would seem like a good title for a bunch of shorts, so yeah, the whole thing is called '_Short Tale'_. Meh._


	2. Martine

_I know it's been an extremely long time since I last posted anything in regards to the novel and I apologize for the long delay. Work and my playstation keep getting in the way. Throughout this time I've managed to be Mass Effect 2 and Uncharted (I know, I'm so slow...) and make some progress on Uncharted 2. To be honest, this chapter has been sitting on my computer for a while and I found myself working on it bit by bit, rewriting it whenever I came back to it. Hopefully this will appease the masses until my muse decides to come back from vacation._

_This 'Mijikai Monogatori' is in line with the previous chapter, so there's not much to tell. _

* * *

Exiting the Garden, he carefully walked along the bridge that was mostly made up of narrow steel girders before he reached the landing and continued along his way down sturdier ground.

He hadn't been lying to the others when he'd mentioned he'd had something to do, despite the suspicious looks he'd received when making the announcement. Their suspicions had been raised even more though when he hadn't explained what exactly it was that he was up to, and he had good reason for it. Sticklers like Quistis and even Zell would have given him a hard time for the errand he had to run, citing that it was against the rules.

And they would be right since weapons weren't allowed in FH at all, and he'd left his trusty rifle with the Grease Monkey at the far end of town.

Besides, even if he hadn't had plans, he still would have made something up. While it was, seemingly, the only way to obtain what they were looking for, he wasn't an idiot and he wasn't about ready to face down the hurricane that Squall became once he was angry, or so he'd been told.

A few days before the Balamb Headmaster announced his retirement (among other things) he explored the town a little only to meet the Grease Monkey after he'd taken care of a soldier who'd managed to slip under SeeDs nose. It turned out that the man wasn't like the rest of the people in the city. While he (usually) abided by the laws of pacifism, he didn't live by them and made his opinion clear on the issue regarding the incident with the mayor at the train station. So after talking for a little while, the man had offered to hook him up with something, but he had to hand over his rifle for it first.

At first Irvine was sceptical, but the Grease Monkey assured him that no harm would come to the weapon and that he would get it back even better than new.

It was a day later that that sharpshooter had smuggled the weapon past the entrance to FH. At first he hadn't thought he would get off so lucky, but he'd passed the inspection and had been allowed on his way. Irvine was thankful they didn't have security devices hooked up like metal detectors. Now, after waiting for a few days like he'd been asked to, it was finally time to retrieve the precious weapon.

As he made his way along the catwalk encircling a pillar, he noticed a gate surrounding what seemed to be the top of a ladder. More importantly, he noticed that the gate had been left wide open. It seemed like a safety hazard, but it also felt like it had been done deliberately, almost as though someone was waiting for some stupid fool to climb on down and explore a little.

Irvine wasn't a fool though, and he easily swatted away the curiosity, passing the hazard as he made a mental note to let someone know about the lapse, more than likely one of the brothers who operated the lift into town.

Though had he been a big enough 'fool' to climb down and investigate, he would have discovered the amusing sight of one of his comrades undergoing an impromptu history lesson in the guise of fishing. Had he seen this, he would have been sworn to secrecy, though somehow or another he would have also found a means of letting this tidbit of information slip 'accidentally' before sharing a laugh with the rest of the team. Sadly, because he chose to mind his own business, Irvine lost the chance at some worthwhile gossip, unaware of its existence in the first place, and continued along at his leisure.

After informing one of the lift brothers of the lapse, Irvine rode the lift that led down into the city proper before he strolled on down the street. Unlike the city, FH was real quiet, and it was definitely something the sharpshooter could get used to. It was nice in contrast.

While the street afforded him no real opposition that larger cities' hustle and bustle did, there was a lone man at the end of the road who had looked up once the lift had come to a stop. Despite having turned his attention away when he'd realized what the sound had been, Irvine still caught him throwing glances over his shoulder despite seemingly minding his own business.

Irvine paid him little mind, but as he passed him by the elder man spoke up. "Odd, in't it?"

The sharpshooter paused in his stride, not at all convinced that those words had been directed towards him. He became convinced though when the man turned around marginally, no longer staring out into the ocean. The red windbreaker he wore blew about in the gentle breeze, brown boot-clad feet planted firmly atop the ground he stood. The hat that covered his bald head gave his eyes some reprieve from the bright daylight. "Where we end up in life, wouldn't ya agree?"

Irvine didn't respond, instead waited for the man to clarify himself. The man seemingly shrugged to himself. "Take us for instance. We left Esthar in order to build a new life without violence. Bet no-one in their wildest dreams ever figured we'd do something like that. I sure didn't."

"Will ya start makin' some sense?" Irvine asked plainly, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right.

The man looked him up and down for a minute, and the sharpshooter had the sense he was being sized up. He didn't like it one bit, but before he could point this out, the man spoke again. "You're strange. You don't look like one of them, and yet here ya are in their company."

Irvine arched an eyebrow at this. "'Them'"?

"You know," the man said. "_Them_. Those SeeD warmongers."

And it suddenly made sense. It had struck the Galbadian sharpshooter as odd how welcoming the people of FH were despite their distaste towards violence, but it looked as though it was a lie, at least with some. It took him back to Winhill, to those pig-headed villagers who'd wanted that Laguna person gone and as quickly as possible too. Some of them had been upfront about it, but others were more selective in their phrasing. That ol' lady for instance, the one Laguna went outta his way to visit just because the Raine gal was worried about her. In the end, all that Agnes woman had been concerned about was getting him on outta the village like everyone else. It'd offended him, but not as much as it had that Kiros fella he was watching the world through. He supposed it was because Kiros and Laguna were friends while Irvine had been just an observer.

Here, it looked as though the villagers were more subtle with their opinions, and Irvine found himself wishing for the more straight forward approach. He couldn't stand two faced people, the kinds who'd no sooner stab you in the back if you'd let them all the while maintaining a facade of friendship or allegiance. More importantly, it was his friends being judged and the sharpshooter took that to heart.

Despite his mental debate however, the suddenly unlikeable man before him continued to talk. "Just comin' on in here, pretending to mean us no harm and then destroyin' our town square. If I didn't want 'em gone so bad, I'da gone straight to the mayor and insisted that we leave 'em to their own devices. Guess we just gotta count down the days to when they leave.

"But I guess I got off topic," the man said before fixing Irvine with a quizzical stare. "So why're you with them if you're not one of 'em?"

Irvine returned the inquiring look with a cool one. "Reckon that ain't nona your business," he responded. "But I will say this. 'They' are people, human bein's like ya'll are. They already made their apologies ta tha officials of this here town, and if they hadn'ta fought back, them Galbadians woulda torched this town for sure. I was there when all tha fighting hit a head. I have personal reason why I tag along with all of them, but 'they', as ya so plainly put it, are what ya'd call comrades."

The man sized Irvine up once more and the sharpshooter scowled, folding his arms across his chest, silently daring the man to do anything. After a moment, the man snorted. "So ya _are _one of them. Shoulda known. You're just another warmonger, so it's obvious why you'd take _their _side."

"Yup," Irvine agreed and the man started. Irvine decided that he hadn't expected the response. "Just anotha warmonger. That's fine by me, if that's how ya'll wanna see me. Now I reckon I got a question for ya, if ya'll humour me and hear me out."

The man stood silent and watchful. No doubt knowing who he was now, he was more than a little wary of what the sharpshooter had in mind. "And you... who're you?"

The man stared at him for a moment, but Irvine jumped in before he could answer. "Judgin' us like yer holier than thou, just 'cuz we have differin' perspectives, because we do thangs different than what ya're use ta. I'll tell ya what ya're. You're a sad, sad man with too much time on your hands, looking down your nose on otha people instead of dealin' with your own baggage. Do yourself a favour and take a good long look at yourself before ya start judgin' othas on their lifestyle choices."

"You're no better than those military types," the man spoke angrily and Irvine decided it was time to leave. So he turned his back on the man as he was talking and started off towards his destination. While he really had nothing better to do, he didn't have to stand around and be judged because of his views. "All those SeeDs, those Galbadian dogs waging war on everyone! Even that military man has no real place here."

This made Irvine stop in his tracks. He wasn't so sure why he was suddenly curious, but he'd never seen a military man wandering the streets of this place. Not in the days the Garden had been marooned here. "What military man?"

"Some military man who wandered up here a while ago," the man barked almost condescendingly. "Small wonder trouble starts brewin' when you can't keep track of your own people. Mayor was crazy to let 'im stay, s'pecially round his home, but at least the military man had the common decency to leave our square the hell alone. Guess that puts him a notch above you SeeDs, after all."

But Irvine had stopped listening, having broken out into a run and heading down towards where he knew the Mayor's house was. Selphie had shown him the place on their way to the restaurant to meet the others the other day, when they first discussed the idea of the concert they would be holding at the end of their stay.

He didn't know why it was so important for him to meet this person but somehow he felt his visit with the Grease Monkey could stand to wait.

At a run it didn't take him long to reach the base of the ramp, but he was left winded, breathing heavily as he looked the space over. There were other people there, but they were mostly concerned with constructing the stage they would need for the concert or getting some practice in before its completion. The mayor's house itself was the only quiet thing he could see.

Irvine was left with a confused feeling. Somehow he knew the unlikeable man hadn't been lying, not about this military man and not about where he hung around. But the sharpshooter was damned if he knew where the hell the man was at.

But when he turned his head marginally to the left he caught sight of some movement and before he knew it he was headed off in the direction to investigate. But what he found caused him to stop in his tracks and stare in disbelief at what he saw.

Sitting hunched over at the edge of the platform overlooking the solar plates like a defeated man was Joseph Martine.

Never before had the Garden Master looked so old and ordinary before. Martine had always come across as a powerful man with many connections, though now it seemed as though he possessed nothing. He'd even done away with his military garb, wearing a simple shirt and trousers with suspenders. To anyone else, he looked like a common day welder or carpenter. His receding hairline was more prominent than the last time he saw him, but what was left of his blonde hair was still combed into perfection. More than likely a habit from his military days that would never be broken.

The man seemed to notice that he had company, because he turned around marginally to take a gander, but completed the motion fully upon recognizing him. "Kinneas," he said in form of greeting.

There was shock in his features though the man did not rise, keeping some of his composure intact. More than likely the shock had come from knowing of his survival. From what little he'd heard from Caraway during that long week of waiting, Martine had been sacked from his job shortly after the others had been incarcerated. The takeover of Galbadia Garden had been first and foremost on the Sorceress' agenda, it would seem.

"I…suppose you'll want to know how I came to be here," Martine said at great length.

Irvine shrugged. "Not really. Already heard 'bout your sacking. Supposed it'd only be a matter of time before ya left Galbadia altagetha."

Martine nodded seemingly to himself and was silent for a moment longer than what was expected. "I heard what happened, after the mission failed. Five people were taken into custody. You weren't among them."

Irvine stayed silent, not knowing what the elder man was getting to. He didn't have to wait for long. "You got away."

"Narrowly," Irvine said awkwardly, not really wanting to go into the details. He still felt like a grade 'A' lout for ditching the others but it'd been what he'd had to do. In the end, it'd all worked out.

Martine's upper lip quirked slightly, no doubt forming a smile he just couldn't muster. It was always about pride with this man, about making appearances. "So _my_ sharpshooter managed to out snake the Galbadian military while _Balamb's_ SeeDs were taken prisoner."

"It ain't about who's better," Irvine interjected, seemingly surprising Martine. His head snapped up faster than he'd ever seen it do. "And I ain't yer sharpshooter neither."

"Be proud," Martine snapped suddenly, surprising Irvine. The man hadn't appeared to have been in any mindset to go back to his former mannerisms. "You got away from the Sorceress before she could kill you. A smart move on your part. You're…"

"Just like you?" Irvine finished, feeling sick. "I ain't _nuthin'_ like you. You're a _coward_. A spineless coward who latches onta stronger folks like leeches."

"But I'm still alive," Martine pointed out.

"Only 'cuz the Sorceress didn't see fit ta waste her time squishin' ya like tha bug ya're."

Martine stopped as though Irvine had physically slapped him across the face, blinking stupidly at the barb, but his hesitance didn't last long. "She took my Garden!" He roared then. Irvine didn't so much as flinch, having judged by the shift in expression what was to come. "She took my _standing_. My life's work, everything that I'd been building up for years is _gone_. You don't know how I suffered, Kinneas. Keeping me alive was just as much punishment as it would have been had she finished me off. I had to wander around aimlessly, from place to place, looking for a new home. I've been in the military for years, it's the only thing I know and now I can't even do that! And all because _you_ couldn't take the god-damned shot."

"Oh no," Irvine said with the shake of his head. "Ya can't pin this one on me."

"I most certainly can," Martine all but snarled. "I shouldn't have put you on that mission in the first place. You can shoot worth a damn, but you never had the focus to be a _real_ sniper. Always in trouble, always strutting around like you owned the place, yet you were nothing more than a talented skirt chaser.

"You call _me_ a coward," Martine laughed at that. "At least _I_ never left a man behind in battle. You left _five_. It's cowardly, but it was _also_ the smart thing to do. So what does that make you?"

Martine stood up then, the verbal attacks giving him a strength that the man seemed to have forgotten he'd had. "A coward with a brain, that's what. Face it Kinneas, regardless of what you might think, you are _exactly _like me. Maybe you're an even bigger coward than I am. But that's the way of life. Deling was a coward. It's why he joined forces with the Sorceress in the first place."

"And look where that got him."

"I never said he was a _smart _coward," Martine said with a shrug. "But joining with the Sorceress _did_ buy him power. For as long as it lasted, people were truly terrified of him, instead of just hating and detesting him and his actions. It's why the Garden joined forces with Caraway to begin with, to get rid of the problem before it could bear fruit. Guess we were a little slow on the uptake."

"Ya stalled," Irvine said and Martine froze at that. "I heard tha whole thang from a very reliable source. Ya was supposed ta take the Sorceress outta commission ages ago, way before Deling made his sordid announcement from Timber. But ya didn't 'cuz yer a coward. When this Norg fella finally told ya ta get off yer ass and do it, ya took advantage of tha team from Timber and used 'em instead. Caraway was waitin' on ya ta get down ta business, but ya let him down. _You_ dropped the ball, Martine, not me."

"You think you have all the answers?" Martine snapped. Obviously this conversation wasn't going the way he had wanted it to. "You think you know everything, don't you? Well then let me tell you something you don't know. In order for Galbadia Garden to use SeeD members on _any_ given mission, I had to obtain clearance from Balamb to sanction it. It wasn't even my idea to use them in the first place. It was _Kramer's_. For whatever reason, he _planned_ to have that particular team stationed in Timber. He _planned_ for them to somehow make their way to Galbadia Garden. He sent runners to me from his own Garden to get me the documentation but when it took too damn long we held a conference drilling it down. So yes, when they arrived, I was fully prepared to send them to the slaughter. Yes, I stalled, but in the end I was just following orders then. You may want to ask _Kramer_ what his reasoning for sending all of you into a fight that was clearly not yours, but to me it really was a means to an end. You can hate me all you want, but I'd have been a _fool_ not to take the way out.

"Because really," Martine chuckled humourlessly then, "if it had been solely a Galbadia Garden operation like Norg had _wanted_, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Because I would've been killed for the act, and so would Caraway, if he hasn't been already. All Norg wanted was a means of deniability, and Kramer couldn't even give him that."

Irvine shook his head as he watched the former Garden Master make excuse after excuse. He knew it was just the kind of person Martine was, never taking responsibility for his own decisions, for his own role in things but it didn't stop the disgust from building up as he heard him. He didn't claim to know what Balamb's Headmaster had been thinking when he'd made the choices he had, but somehow he knew that right this minute the elder man was paying for them. Why it had to be the team it was, Irvine doubted he'd ever get the answers, but he knew one thing for certain.

Glaring down the man before him, Irvine's tone was calm though the words carried the fury he felt. "Kramer sent _four_ of us."

Martine was left momentarily confused but Irvine cut in before he could interject. "There were four SeeDs on tha team. Tha General's daughter was another one ya sent, but we're not gonna get inta that. Kramer sent four SeeDs onta that mission, but _I_ was sent in cuza you. You _are _ta blame, if only for a fraction. Ya didn't hafta listen ta Kramer. Ya didn't hafta _stall_. You were a Garden Master, so who're ya ta say ya was just followin' orders when ya were the god-damned boss?"

For once, Martine seemed to have been caught without a prepared answer and he just stood there staring incredulously at the sharpshooter, almost demanding to know why he had to ask that particular question. Irvine pushed forward though, thankful that the man had, for once, shut his hole. "All a this' 'cuza yer actions, Martine. Ya messed up. It's time ta take yer lumps like a man for once, and think about your part in it."

"How _dare _you," Martine growled. His face was spotted in reds, clearly outraged. "You treat to me with some god-damned respect!"

"I'll treat ya respectfully when ya damn well earned it," Irvine snapped back. "Now yer gonna sit yer ass down, ponder on how ya got yerself inta this mess and deal with it. I wasted enough time 'round here talkin' ta ya when I got beta thangs ta do."

"And what do you suppose I should do now then, Kinneas?" Martine shouted, always having to have the last word. "A military man without a career! You're _so_ smart, thinking you know what's best, so what should I do?"

"I dunno," Irvine shouted back with a shrug as he started to walk away. "Start a shop. Build a boat. Hell, take up fishing for all I care, someone 'round here's bound ta teach ya, if they have the patience ta stomach yer bullshit. But know that you'll be payin' fer yer actions and ya'll keep payin' fer tha rest of yer life."

"Where are you going?" Martine demanded, but Irvine kept walking, deciding to humour the man and let him have the last word after all. He was done talking. "Kinneas? What are you planning? Get back here this instant!"

Irvine shook his head as he continued walking, noticing that the yelling was garnering the attention of the folks around them. For his part, he just kept his head down and started up the ramp. Martine could think he was planning his revenge all he wanted, but Irvine knew he was above that. The Grease Monkey was waiting on him and now he had a couple of people at the Garden to meet up with after that. Hell, it should help with Selphie and Zell's mission anyway, keeping Squall distracted for a bit. Martine was many things, but most notably he made it a point to know every single detail about his Garden, and that would prove useful to them in the long run of this war.

His day was soured, but he wasn't the kind of guy to linger of the negative and instead opted to look forward to his visit with the Grease Monkey, continuing on his way as he did.

* * *

_Originally, this was going to be a chapter detailing Irvine's first encounter with the Grease Monkey but I had trouble making it flow properly without it sounding too generick. I'd always had the idea of writing an exchange between Irvine and Martine, so I melded that into this instead. _

_You know, when I first started playing Final Fantasy 8, I didn't really like Irvine that much. I think it was the womanizing and fact that he ran away while everyone else got arrested that turned me off of him, but the more I write his character, the more I'm starting to like him. In fact, he's actually one of my favourite characters now. I think the change happened around the time I wrote 'Not Selphie' (shameful plugging aside) but he's really not that bad of a guy. That, and I think it's kinda fun how he doesn't actually get angry enough to start yelling. He's a mellow kind of guy, I think. Actually I got another friend liking my portrayal of the sharpshooter when he read the previously mentioned story (again, done with the self-plugging, sorry). As for Martine, I've never really liked him that much, but that could also be because he wasn't a very prodominent character. I remember asking myself 'why aren't you hiring the professionals for this mission' when I first realized what we were supposed to do, and then he laments about his loss when he winds up in Fisherman's Horizon, and it really just made me roll my eyes. So yeah, a lot of what was said in this chapter was purely speculation. _

_The conversation with the first guy, however, actually does happen. Again I tweaked it, but I wanted to add it mainly because Fisherman's Horizon is a lot like Winhill was when Laguna lived there. Before you shoot me, think about it for a minute. Dobe was so anxious to see them leave when they first met with them. It's not too much to say that the other villagers may have had similar views, if not everyone. Laguna was viewed as untrustworthy because he came from outside Winhill, so the similarities match, though in his case it was Raine and Ellone who had his back. What the guy says to Irvine when he's alone (you can do this while trying out the different instruments for the concert) seems to back up this thought, especially his sudden dismissal when he realizes Irvine really is 'one of them'. I just added to Irvine's response._

_I kind of feel like this chapter sort of stopped in a random place, but I might just be overanalyzing it. Please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think, what you liked, what you disliked. I'm looking forward to it, really, and I promise to try and update RoC very very soon._


End file.
